The Once Rejected Witch's Now A Hockey Playmaster

003: Prey In The Midst Of Predators

❣️ Jacklyn ❣️

Someone should tell me what the hell I was finding on the pitch again after two weeks of my rejection. I mean I never had interest, so why was I drawn to it immediately after my third rejection.

Was my new mate here on the pitch? Wasn't sure. I can't think of anybody who meets that standard.

I’d never liked sweating. Or team sports. Or being yelled at by a banshee with war medals from the last Fae Conflict.

But I loved this. Being playmates with my friend wasn't the interesting part. I was able to get my soul connected to something.

The slap of the stick against turf. The whistle of the wind in my ears. The way my body moved now

…sharp, fast, fluid. I wasn’t the same girl who got rejected on a marble stage two weeks ago. That girl had walked like glass.

This one ran like fire.

Why exactly am I so fast and sharp at something like this? I'm not meant for something like this.

That was the thought I had a week ago into the sport, but I just can't refuse the call. It was the only thing my soul understood now.

“Wynters!” Coach Silva’s voice cracked through the field like thunder. “Don’t hesitate!”

I didn’t. I will never.

I dropped my shoulder and surged forward, cleaving through the defenders like water through stone. The ball was mine. Always mine. And the goal loomed ahead, a heartbeat away.

I feel like Coach Silva's encouragement has been the thing keeping me going. I mean why would she leave her best players to give me encouragement. I was untamed and untrained, but in two weeks, I had stepped up in rank. I stole the fifth rank from the owner, making her leave the team in the end.

A shape cut in from the left.. Lya, our fastest. Fae-blooded, slippery as mist.

Not fast enough.

I spun low and slammed the ball into the net with enough force to knock it loose from its posts. It bounced into the fence, rattling chains and drawing a few stunned whoops from the sidelines.

Silence followed.

Then..

“Holy s**t,” Lya muttered behind me. “What are you on?”

I was panting. Sweat soaked my back, my braid clung to my neck, but I felt… wired. Not exhausted. Not aching. Just ready.

I owe all these to my abilities as a witch. The Divination power, things moved the way I wanted it to do. I could predict the opponent's next move without knowing their play mode.

Dorian tossed me a water bottle. “You’re terrifying now. I’m into it.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, but my pulse hadn’t slowed. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to laugh or bite something.

Lya sniffed. Loudly.

“Okay, not to be weird,” she said, “but your scent changed.”

“What?” I blinked.

She tilted her head, her vine-woven braid swaying. “You used to smell like herbs and rainwater. Witchy stuff. Now it’s…” She frowned. “Sharper. Like pine and… fur?”

Was I meant to believe that?

Dorian raised a brow. “Maybe she’s shedding.”

“Can we not?” I snapped, too fast. Too defensive. My skin felt hot. My hands shook slightly. Was I overheating? No~~it wasn’t heat. It was energy. Surging under the surface like I’d swallowed lightning.

“Take five,” Coach Silva called, already walking away like nothing was wrong. “And Wynters stay after.”

That was never good.

We were back at the Dean's office. I had no idea what I was doing there.

But

The aura scanner hummed softly, bathing my skin in cold blue light. I sat still, palms open, trying not to flinch as the diagnostic sigils shifted above me.

Professor Elrin tapped the edge of the mirror-slate, lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve been pushing your physical limits,” he said flatly.

“It’s field hockey, not necromancy,” I muttered.

He didn’t smile. “Your aura is… complicated.”

“No surprise there.”

He adjusted a rune on the panel. A shimmer rippled through the projection above me ..layers of color and energy unfolding like a flower. Witch light. Pure and green. And beneath it… something else. A flicker of gold. Faint, but pulsing.

Professor Elrin squinted. “Unusual. I’m logging it as an anomaly.”

“Is it dangerous?”

He didn’t answer.

Dean Veyne never raised her voice. She didn’t need to. Her office always smelled faintly of ash, and the stained-glass windows hummed with containment wards. She was power in velvet gloves — all polite smiles and coiled magic.

“You’ve been... progressing,” she said, folding her hands over her desk. “In unexpected ways.”

“I’m just playing sports.”

“Don’t be flippant, Jacklyn.” Her tone cooled. “Your file is being updated. Some faculty are concerned.”

“About what?”

Her eyes colorless, unreadable — flicked toward the glowing report on her desk.

“There are… echoes in your aura. An undertone. Something not quite witch. It could be a glitch. Or it could be blood.”

My mouth dried.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to,” she said softly. “But take my advice — don’t dig into things that should stay buried. History has a way of waking up ugly.”

The air in the room turned cold.

“You’re dismissed.”

Was I meant to believe that? Even if I did, was it passed to me to dwell on it? If not, why do I find myself thinking about it constantly?

To the moment that~~

I ran.

Bare feet, bare skin, wind in my teeth.

The forest pulsed around me alive and silver in the moonlight. Trees whipped past like blurs. My lungs burned with joy, not pain. I wasn’t hiding. I wasn’t chasing.

I was free.

Something howled in the distance. I howled back.

And as I stopped on a rocky ledge, heart pounding, I caught my reflection in the still water below.

Eyes glowing.

Not green.

Gold.

“Hah…” Cold sweat broke out as I gasped for breath. I realized I was sitting on the bed, sweating profusely and begging for air to fill my lungs.

It was all a dream.